


Slosh

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Bathtime sexy fun.





	

She sits in the bath-tub with her Knight between her thighs. She feels no shame in being the bigger spoon from time to time. She _is_ taller, after all, even if only by a fraction. It’s nice how tall Kylo actually is, though, because many a man has made her feel like a giantess.

Around him, she feels only tall. He’s never once mocked her for her height (and, if she thinks about it, he likely has had similar experiences to hers, if less gender-based), and only grouses from time to time if he can’t see over her shoulder or head. 

But that isn’t in a ‘you’re a tall freak’ way, but ‘I’m used to everyone else being shorter’ way, and somehow it never hurts from him. 

The water is still on the warmer side of comfortable, but the scorch of it has faded. Either that, or she’s gotten used to it. Kylo’s head falls back onto her shoulder, his eyes closed in soft satisfaction. His pale skin always lights up dramatically when he’s either warm or aroused, and now is no exception. Her eyes wander down over the breathing in his chest, the bullet-points of his nipples. She sees the tiny trail of dark hair low down on his abdomen, and sees the rest of his body obscured by the ripples. 

He blinks his eyes open when she moves a hand, using her fingers to press at the slight folds of his tummy from being bent over. His whole body is a mix of muscle-firm and action-lean, and she lets her nails scratch gently at the little frame of dark curls at the start of his groin. When he makes to move, she shushes at his ear, tells him to stop, to let her.

Kylo relaxes back into her, his weight a firm pressure to breathe against. It’s always a reassurance, having him rest against her. There’s something just fundamentally, primally _good_ about a whole body weight bearing down on you. Not even sexually, just as connection, as closeness. 

Phasma lets her hand fall lower, a splishy noise as her wrist follows fingers below the surface. She fights the resistance of the water, whirling a tiny little vortex between his legs, stirring him up. She watches his cock bob about on the eddies, and then puts her hand below so it rests on her palm. With the water supporting it, it’s not heavy. How strange it must be to walk about with this between his legs? To have to tuck it to one side, or pin it down? (Although it’s probably just as odd for him to consider her breasts, which behave rather better in public. Or her ability to split her stride and straddle things without worrying about sitting down too fast…)

Her other hand reaches around. Holding it still from below, she uses this opportunity to explore his shaft. He’s pinned between her legs and arms, and the tub would make it difficult to escape without cheating with the Force, or getting dangerously physical. He’s content for the moment, and she runs her fingernails lightly up and down. They’re softened by the bathwater, but he still hisses at the scrapes. She knows how it feels to use her short, but neat nails on her own sex, so she imagines it must feel similar for him: a little bit too much fun. Good for the short term, but dangerously raw for extended periods.

Her fingertips feel for the light swells and rises of his skin, the bulges where a vein throbs near the surface, the light topography her inner world knows so well. It’s a very nice cock, thick and long, and it always feels better than her toys do. Or… for sensation it does, and for the climax part. She has to admit that occasionally a very firm, pulsing toy can have its benefits as well. If she had to choose toy or Kylo for the rest of forever, though… he’d win.

(Thankfully, he’s not the type to be jealous of her small selection of personal assistants. Instead, he’ll happily use them on her until she gushes all over the bed.)

There’s places on him that are more sensitive than others. She found that out pretty early on, found that he loved it when her tongue or finger played about with the slit at the very end of his dick. She loves to close her jaws around the head of his penis and lick that with all her strength until he’s begging her to stop, to not stop, and to do everything in between. 

She pulls at the skin, seeing how much slack there is, tugging the sheath back and forth over the length below. The glide of it, the silky-smooth skin and the deceptive hardness. He rumbles slightly, but then he starts to pant when her hand moves up to the head. She palms over the crown, then puts her fingers behind the flared head, twisting left and right like she’s popping open a can by degrees. His hands hold onto the metal loops at the side of the bath as he sloshes a little into her grip, and she keeps it up until she thinks it’s too much. 

Sometimes she wonders how it must feel to have your arousal in something so external, so… extended from your body. Does it throb like she does, only turned inside out? Is he aware of his need all the way to his tip? Right now, her own sex is opened to the hot water, and she feels the slosh of it kissing at her lips. 

She can stay aroused for hours, if she wants. She regularly likes to do that, to allow her attention to wander (when it’s safe to do so), and let blood thrum between her legs. To feel her lips swell and reach for something that isn’t there, feel her passage parting to let her juices seep out and into her panties. The smell she’s sure everyone can detect as she makes way for something that’s hours away from coming in to dock. The aching need to be filled, the open hole at her core and the way her clit and hood will almost vibrate in that way she normally only does when a high-speed toy’s been playing between her legs. The thuddy, blood-rush feeling of her parts trying to flutter around a shaft, to encourage it to keep moving inside of her and release deep into her womb. 

Phasma loves that. Loves being so ready for him that he can just push right the way inside, filling her up to her satisfaction. The damp cling of her panties to her, prised away and revealing her drenched pussy. The way every step is a torment of reminding her there’s nothing inside of her. She’s tried love eggs before, but they’re just not the same as a thorough pounding from a firm shaft.

Right now, she’s turned on beyond belief. The sounds he makes, the way his lashes flutter and his lips part to show the pink inside (pink like the inside of her lips), it’s intoxicating. Being unable to do anything about it but wait, and feeling his dick get harder and harder as she touches still so lightly… She can last all day and night, her arousal peaking and troughing. Lulling through space on low power, then ramping it up to hyperspeed… the thought of her climax to come has her fingers moving faster, twisting and pinching and pulling his body to gasps.

“I’m - I’m–”  


She takes hold of his sac, dancing her fingers below and letting the balls slop up through the water, to drop down again. Over and over, then she takes as much as she can in one hand and rolls them back and forth. Her other hand chases his length from root to tip, her fingers mimicking the action of her walls around the emptiness currently in her core. She’s going to want his attentions when this is over, but for now she’s content to give him his release. 

Kylo’s head tilts, and his lips seek out her throat and jaw. She smiles at the tender gratitude, and knows he’ll repay her a hundredfold over once they climb out of the bath. Maybe with those toys. It’s nice to use them on yourself, but nothing quite beats the speed and force he can apply, the range of his arm compared to her own reaching down to her vagina. Yep. Maybe two toys, one in each hole, stretching and filling her completely. That sounds nice.

His orgasm hits his balls first, that familiar tensing and then the splash in the water as he holds himself in reserve. She shushes him, whispers: “ _Come for me_ ,” and he cries her name to her throat as his hips twitch in his release. It clouds the water where it hits, and she kneads and milks out every last drop until he’s panting. 

Phasma lets go of his balls, wiping the come from his belly before it tries to dry. She runs her nose behind his ear, breathing in his clean scent, and washes his cock and her hand at the same time.

When he’s ready, she helps him stand.

His eyes are already on her breasts, her belly, her lips… then back to her face. She beams. 

It’s much more fun to last for longer. Much.


End file.
